The Burning Hour
by Indoctrinated
Summary: As Eve had been tempted with a taste of knowledge, so was the Doctor by a taste of revenge, and it was far sweeter than any fruit he could imagine.


A/N: Ok, my turn to have a crack at a 42 tag. Seems just about everyone is whipping one of these out, and I couldn't resist the urge either. It just felt like so much was left unsaid between them. Credit for the title goes to my new beta (props for her by the way). Enjoy reading, I sure enjoyed writing it!

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"_Burn with me, Martha._"

Even now, hours later, the Doctor could still feel the all-consuming fire burning through his blood. The memory of it was so vivid, still so achingly raw he nearly cried out in pain. His hands trembled and his eyes watered and stung, the searing heat burning in his memories, lighting his body on fire again. But this was no mere possession or infection; this fire was fueled by guilt.

"_Burn with me._" The venomous, guttural voice echoed through his head again, sending a fresh cascade of flame flowing into his body. This time, a thin cry of agony and terror escaped from behind his clenched teeth. Suddenly, without warning, his legs failed to support him. He fell first to his knees, and for a moment held himself there – swaying in momentary weakness – and then to his hands. His arms shook, rivulets of sweat pouring down his face and neck. In minutes his entire shirt was soaked through, the tremors growing in magnitude until they engulfed his entire body.

But even more than the flame that burned him from the inside out, even more than the agony that scraped every nerve raw, the Doctor was outright terrified. He let loose another thin wail, biting his lip to hold in another until his chin dripped red with fresh, flowing blood. A choking, strangled sounded was dragged from his seared throat as his body contorted into impossible shapes, the impact of the pure agony crumpling his face into a disfigured mask, mouth open wide in a silent scream and eyes clenched shut to contain the burning light.

He choked, hacked, coughed, flaying his throat even more to keep himself from speaking those three words that came from somewhere deep and angry inside of him. The Sun had been vengeful, but so was he. A different kind of fire burned in his blood everytime he saw a Dalek; an instinctual, primal need to punish something for his loss – a loss he felt everyday of his life. The Sun offered him the power to destroy the Daleks. And he had been so very tempted. As Eve had been tempted with the taste of knowledge, so was the Doctor by a taste of revenge, and it was far sweeter than any fruit he could imagine. The Sun had offered him the means to destroy them forever, and everything in him begged for him to accept the offer. To take the power of a god and wield it over the heads of his oldest enemies. Within his reach stood the power to make them turn to a pile of ash.

But then, just as he had extended his hand to take what he so desperately wished for, he remembered a pact that had been made a long time ago, for the same reasons, for the same terms, and had ended only after a high price had been paid. In hindsight, he realized the price had probably been too high. He had been blinded by his lust for power and for revenge and justice in a world where those words no longer held the same meaning the once had.

He withdrew his hand. He would endure this test, he would not make the same mistake again.

Realizing that the Doctor would not combine his power with hers, the Sun had burned within him with a greater intensity. And now, as he had done several hours ago, his eyes snapped open, glowing with an ethereal light that could turn flesh to ash and burn with the intensity of the sun. The temperature of the room skyrocketed as he rose to his knees, and then clambered to his feet, a rusty growl of anger and agony bellowing from his chest. Against his will, drawn forcibly from the locked sanctity of his memories, he rumbled in an otherworldly voice that shook the walls, "_Burn with me._"

The door burst open, and Martha stood in front of him, eyes wide with concern, chest heaving – from fear or from exhaustion, he couldn't tell. Her eyes raked across the room, taking stock of the situation in a cool, calculated, and efficient manner. Then, she stepped across the room, extending a hand towards him. "Take my hand," Martha commanded firmly, her eyes daring to meet his.

He hesitated, and then took a step back. The rumbling voice was replaced with his own, and the light in his eyes dimmed slightly. "No."

"Take it!" she ordered, meeting his step back, with a step forward of her own.

His eyes flared, return to their previous intensity. Martha stood her ground. He said, "I'll burn you."

"I'm willing to take that chance." Her fingers brushed against his. "Come with me."

His fingers tightened around hers, and the glow in his eyes faded altogether. Without wanting to, without quite knowing, his knees buckled and he fell into her, hands clutching desperately at her shoulders. Though thin, the combination of his weight and her surprise when he fell on her forced Martha to her knees. She held his head against her shoulder, gently rocking him back and forth. His skin was like a searing brand against hers.

It was only after several minutes that she could discern the sound of his sobs over what she had mistaken for heavy breathing – both his and hers. For a moment, she thought him to be incapable of tears, but then, she realized, his tears evaporated the moment they touched his skin. Martha pulled back, cradling his face in her hands, her soft brown eyes meeting his. The Doctor's gaze fell away first, his hands climbing up her arms to cover her hands with his own.

She looked down at him, but before she could speak, he choked out, "I almost took it…"

Martha frowned, confused. "Took what?"

He let loose a thin cry of pain, grimacing, and replied, "The power. I almost took it. Again." Martha remained silent, sensing more behind the fragmented explanation. He continued, "I was tempted. Oh, so tempted. I wanted it, wanted it more than anything I could ever imagine. I wanted them to pay." He snarled viciously. "I wanted them to pay for everything they'd ever done to anyone!" The Doctor looked up, his eyes blazing with a different kind of fire this time. "I wanted them to pay for every father they took away from a child, I wanted them to pay for every husband they took from a wife. I wanted them to pay for everything they took that wasn't their right to take!" The fire died, and he sobbed, "She wasn't theirs to take…she wasn't theirs…she wasn't…" His voice cracked. "She…she wasn't mine either…"

Finally, Martha understood. The Daleks had taken Rose from him. The Daleks had taken his family, his friends, his everything. They had taken everything from him but his own life, which was more of a punishment than killing him outright. They had taken everything from him, and yet they could not meet justice. She couldn't think of anything to say. No words could make it right.

He collapsed into her arms again, now beyond the point of tears. He spoke softly, his voice devoid of emotion, "I'm sorry, Martha. I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

"I was tempted. I was weak."

"No." Her voice was firm now. "You didn't take what it offered. That's far stronger than I ever would have been."

He seemed to ignore her comment. "I almost took it. I'm a Time Lord. I shouldn't be that weak. _I shouldn't_."

She picked him back up, hauling him to his feet and steadying him by his shoulders. "_You_ are strong because that's who you are, Doctor. _I'm_ strong because no one else can be strong for me. You are strong by nature, I am by necessity. You do what you can for others, I do what I can to get by." She quirked a smile. "You've already saved my life more times than I can count. I think you have right to be weak every once in awhile."

He smirked back at her. "Sixteen times."

"Come again?" she chuckled.

"I've saved you sixteen times. But, you've paid me back for each time so far. You owe me nothing."

She touched his face. "You gave me the universe, I don't think I could ever repay that debt."

He looked down fondly at her, covering her hand with his own, and said, "It's nice to know someone has faith in you."

Martha glanced away, avoiding his eyes as she said, "Rose did." His face whitened. She managed to look back. "You said Rose wasn't yours to lose. I think she was." Her hand fell away from his face and picked up a hand instead. She used it to cover one of his hearts. "She's in there. And she'll always stay there. That makes a part of her yours." Martha backed away, heading for the door.

He started to stop her, but she cut him off, saying, "You go take a shower now, Doctor. I'll throw a cuppa together." Before he could reply, she flashed him a bright smile and slipped out the doorway, closing it softly behind her.

After a few moments of staring at the door, he wiped his eyes and said to someone who couldn't hear him but already knew, "Thank you, Martha Jones."

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Fin. 


End file.
